A Mother's Love
by kittenmarsh
Summary: After getting into a fist fight with Sebastian, who had insulted his mother, Anders goes back to the Hawke Estate to reflect on his old life in the Anderfels. Particularly about his relationship with his mother.


**(( First thing I'd like to note is that I roleplay Anders on facebook, and that's where this fic originated from. It was inspired by a roleplay there, and numerous people told me to post this on here. :)**

**I've been particularly curious lately in exploring Anders's family. All you really know from his short story is that his father hated/was afraid of him, and his mother was weeping as Anders was taken away. I've taken a few liberties to draw conclusions from there on what his family was probably like and... Just wanted to explore a little with how Anders feels about his mother, because it's obvious she loved him, and Anders loves her (the pillow and all).**

**Also note: This is like a continuation of a fight that Anders and Sebastian got into. I wrote this in response to a roleplay I, Anders, did with the Sebastian we have. ))**

Anders stumbled into the Hawke estate, shutting the door behind him loudly. He was still angry. How dare that self-righteous, impulsive, royal pain in the ass insult his mother? The mage brought a hand up to his face, letting the pale blue magical energies released from his palm heal his bitten inside of his lip and his sore, aching bruises. All the while, Anders made his way toward the stairs, intent on visiting the storage chest inside the master bedroom.

Once inside, the healer knelt in front of the chest that held all of Hawke's precious keepsakes, such as his mother's wedding ring and Bethany's necklace, staring at it for a few moments. Normally, Anders would leave such a thing be, but he had asked permission to store the one object most precious to him that he had kept all these years inside that chest.

His mother's pillow.

It was the one thing that the templars had allowed him to keep to remind himself of his mother during his life at the Circle. It was blue satin, with carefully sown frilled edges which were now beginning to look matted and worn. The mage's amber eyes looked somber and sullen as he opened the chest and saw the weathered cloth sitting near the top, acting as the resting place for Hawke's family's jewelry.

It was the one thing Anders still had. That final scrap that he retained of his mother's existence in his life other than memories. The apostate reached in and very carefully set the ring and necklace aside, his hand then moving to stroke the velvety material of the pillow before picking up it, standing, and sitting on the edge of the bed with it.

He shut his eyes, fingers slowly drawing circles on the fabric of the pillow, as he sorted through the memories of his childhood. They weren't always the happiest of memories, though Anders preferred to focus on those particular thoughts. The mage's father had hated him, feared him for his abilities. He could still remember how angry father had been when he accidentally set fire to that barn.

"His power is out of control!" His father had barked.

"No, love, he is your son!" Anders's mother had responded, beseeching him with the light brown eyes he had inherited not to alert the templars. Anders would never forget it; the one person in his life who wasn't a mage and still loved him, defended him, for who he was. His mother had loved him as a person, as her son. Such a feeling, such love... It was so pure, that thinking on it now nearly shattered the mage's heart.

He would never forget the devastated look on his mother's face when the templars came. The way she wept alone, father standing aside without a thought of interfering, collapsed to her knees as she trembled realizing her only son was being taken away from her life forever. It was in that moment, that final moment when their eyes met and locked, that Anders was certain that his mother had loved him with all her heart, no matter how many times his rambuctious behavior frustrated and worried her, no matter how many times she scolded him for being wreckless and immature.

It was the purest love Anders had experienced for years. For nearly a decade Anders knew only passing fancies and quick trysts with his fellow Circle mages. It was silly, lighthearted, and there were no string attached. The shallowest of feelings as they treated love like a game.

Eight years, and he'd nearly forgotten what it was like to have a family. To have a mother who put her all into loving and caring for him. Protecting him, hiding him from those who would surely rip him, her only child, from her arms themselves.

Anders never thought he'd experience such a love again. Not until he met Garrett... Not until he needed someone who cared, who would protect him, who would love him. Someone to keep him sane in all of the terrifying events that unfolded in Kirkwall. Someone he wished he could repay with just his love and comfort.

But he was terrified. He knew this feeling, this love. It brought memories back to him, some vague and some vivid. The feeling of his mother's embrace, the feeling when his mother rewarded him with that warm, tender gaze that told him he could trust her completely. It all existed in Garrett.

It was frightening.

Anders knew it could all be taken away from him so quickly. But it was so different this time. Garrett was the man he could spend his life with. He was the man that the healer knew he could share every moment of every day with.

To have the templars take that love away from him again would be unbearable. Anders didn't want to feel what would surely be a more intense heartbreak if Garrett was taken away, or if the templars finally found him. He didn't want to have to see the look in Garrett's eyes that he had seen in the eyes of his mother that day that he was taken from his home.

Did Anders deserve such a love, even if he were willing to risk the tragic results that could have followed his admittance of love?

The mage's thoughts were suddenly plagued with how events had occurred in Kirkwall. His eyes stung with a few tears as he stared down at the pillow in his lap. Only one thought remained when he had finished overlooking his decisions since leaving his mother's arms:

_What would mother think of me now?_

Anders had become a cold-blooded murderer. An abomination. An out-of-control mage. He had become everything his father had feared in him. Anders knew what he was. Perhaps the man did some good for his kin, but he took innocent lives to pursue his goal.

Would his mother still love him for everything he did? Would Anders ever see those warm brown eyes smiling at him with that tender sparkle of love within her irises? Would she ever hold him again as she once did, tell him she loved him? Was she even alive to know what he had done, what he was going to continue to do?

All of the suffering, the guilt, the self-punishment Anders delivered to himself daily suddenly came crashing down upon him. He, in all of his self-loathing, came to this one conclusion:

His mother wouldn't love him anymore.

The tears that had formed in Anders's eyes suddenly spilled over at this revelation, and he hung his head in shame as they stained his cheeks.

His mother wouldn't even recognize him anymore, Anders realized as he looked down at his hands. He choked back a small sob as he watched the teardrops fall and soak into the pillow that served to remind him of home, of a time before Justice destroyed his life. Before he turned Justice into Vengeance, before he gave a nug's ass about the Circle mages.

Anders allowed himself to sob softly, his shoulders shaking, as he hunched over his lap and hid his face with one hand, his other arm winding around and holding close to himself that blue velvet cushion.

As the man thought of all of his mistakes, all of the times he went wrong, all he could see behind his eyelids were those eyes so much like his own, watching him with that petrified expression as fate ripped him farther and farther away from her arms.

Her little boy had become a monster.


End file.
